


Occupational Hazard

by TobiasHankel



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Caring Derek Morgan, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prostitute Spencer Reid, Prostitution, Sassy Spencer Reid, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobiasHankel/pseuds/TobiasHankel
Summary: The BAU team, Hotch, Morgan, Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Rossi, get called onto a case where an unsub is murdering prostitutes and leaving behind cryptic messages. They get help from an unlikely source, a drug addict and prostitute named Spencer Reid. If only the BAU team could help Spencer in return.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 193
Kudos: 340





	1. Find a Penny

**Author's Note:**

> At this time I choose not to use archive warnings but be aware of the tags. This fic will contain drug use, addiction, prostitution, homelessness, sexual assault, and attempted rape. I will add warnings if anything changes. Read responsibly.

“It’s too early for this..” Morgan groaned as he walked into the conference room, coffee in hand, for the new case meeting.

“Oh, calm down, it’s not even that early,” Emily said as she walked next to him.

JJ, who was a few steps ahead of the two, turned back, “And it’s a local case. No wheels up today.”

Morgan sighed in relief of not having to start his Monday morning on a plane. He loved his job but sometimes starting your day being flown across the country to catch a serial killer was just a bit much.

The three entered the conference room where Garcia, Hotch, and Rossi were already sitting and took their own seats, except for JJ, who started to hand out case files before heading to the front of the room and clicking the remote for her projector screen.

“Six dead women have shown up over the past month in Washington D.C., all stabbed to death.” JJ started.

“Hold on, six bodies, and they are just now calling us in?” Morgan asked and Emily nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, there only has to be three for it to be called serial. Why did they wait?”

JJ clicked on her remote to show six images of dead women, all covered in blood, laying in alleyways or by dumpsters and Garcia quickly looked away. “All six women were prostitutes. The local PD just assumed they were unrelated. That their murders were just an.. occupational hazard.”

Rossi looked up from the case folder towards Hotch, “Did they look into these victims’ deaths at all?”

Hotch, who was sitting in the front of the table, shook his head, “Not from what I have seen. I will be filing a complaint once we finish the case.”

“Doubt they will change anything,” Emily huffed out. Everyone on the team felt strongly about the victims they dealt with, no matter who they were or the path they were on, everyone deserved justice.

Morgan closed his case file, having finished the small amount of information that it held, “So how did they figure out the murders were related.”

JJ smirked and hit the button on her remote, showing a note written on the back of a coffee shop receipt. “This. Someone left this note at the front desk of the police station.”

_‘Is your department negligent or uneducated? Six women have been murdered on your streets and you are not doing anything to find the perpetrator. These murders are related and will not cease until you do something about them.’_

“Strange..” Emily thought out loud once she was finished reading the letter.

“What is?” Hotch asked.

Emily narrowed her eyes at the letter again, “It’s just that the writer seems highly educated but their handwriting is horrible. Almost as if they were shaking.”

“Maybe the writer was just angry?” Garcia hypothesized but Rossi shook his head.

“No. The writing is even. An angry writer would have applied more pressure.”

Morgan leaned up in his seat, “Did anyone see who left the note?”

JJ turned the screen off and set the remote on the table. “One officer did. He claimed that it was a prostitute that he has seen on the streets before, but he didn’t know the name.”

“Well, what did she look like?” Morgan asked but Garcia, who was typing furiously on her laptop, spoke up first.

“Ahh, looks like a certain police department stores their surveillance videos online!” She said before she reached out, grabbing the remote and turning the monitor back on before a low-quality video showed on the screen. “Also, you mean ‘he’,” she added, looking at Morgan.

In the video, a man about six feet tall and very thin walked up to the counter. He grabbed a pen off the counter and rummaged in his pockets before pulling out the receipt. He scribbled out his note and placed it on the desk on the other side of the counter. Then he left without saying a word.

He didn’t try and cover his face or come and go quickly. It was as if he were simply dropping off a letter at the post office, it was just another errand in his day.

“Could he be the unsub?” JJ asked once the video stopped.

Hotch closed his case file and stood up, “There is no way of knowing until we interview him. Morgan, and Prentiss, you two head to the streets and ask the locals what they have seen and if they know anything about this man. Rossi, to the coroner's office, and JJ and I will set up in the local PD office.”

\--

Emily and Morgan drove around for about half an hour seeing if they could spot the man. There were plenty of working ladies still on the street, most of them just getting off work or trying to catch the attention of the men on their way to work at the capital or surrounding businesses, but no men.

They knew that male prostitutes were rare. 20% of all prostitutes were male according to the statistics that Garcia searched for the team. This meant that a working man mixed in with the working women would stick out like a sore thumb, but there was no sign of any male prostitutes.

So, Emily and Morgan had to take to the streets and ask around.

“Ma’am, can I speak with you for a moment?” Morgan asked as he approached yet another person. No one was willing to speak with him or Emily and if they were, they claimed to not know anything about the man or the murders.

“Mmm, sure honey, were you looking for some company?” The woman said with a smile before she saw Emily, “Oh, I don’t do groups. Maggie, the redhead on 7th, she does though.” She said as she turned to walk away.

“No, no ma’am,” Emily started and flashed her badge. “We just need to talk.”

Panic flashed on to the woman’s face, “I am just trying to work here, I got kids!”

Emily quickly put her badge away and took a step back, “We aren’t here to arrest you, we just have a few questions.”

The woman pierced her lips as if she didn’t believe them, but she stopped trying to walk away.

“There have been several murders in the area,” Morgan started, “Do you know anything about that?”

“I thought I wasn’t in trouble.” The woman shot back, defensively. 

“You’re not. We are just asking around.”

“Hm..” The woman thought for a moment, “I don’t know anything about that. Bitches get killed around here all the time. Normally it’s some John that didn’t wanna pay or a pimp that didn’t get his money but that’s all I know.”

Morgan let out a small sigh. The few working girls they had managed to get to stop and question all said the same thing. None of them saw anything or knew about the murders. Morgan started to wonder if the police department was on to something about the murders not being related.

Emily pulled out her cell phone that had a screenshot from the police department's surveillance video of the man who left the note. “Have you seen this man?”

The woman looked at the photo for a moment before her eyes went wide with realization. She then looked away, “Nope. I gotta go.”

Morgan took a step in front of her as she started to walk away, “Ma’am, he isn’t in trouble either. We just believe that he might have been a witness to one of the murders.”

The woman sighed dramatically, “Fine. That is Penny.”

“Penny?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, I don’t think that is his real name but that is what the girls call him. He has helped a few of ‘em get their GEDs so they look out for him.” The woman said with a faint smile.

Emily nodded, “Do you know where he might be?”

“You sure he isn’t in any trouble?”

Morgan shook his head, “No, just someone we want to question just like we did with you.” He lied. They had no idea if the man in the video was the unsub or not but personally, Morgan didn’t think he was.

The woman looked a little uncomfortable but answered anyway, “Yea.. okay. What time is it?”

Emily looked at her cellphone that was still in her hand, “9:43 am.”

“I don’t know his schedule or nothing, but he is a junkie and the clinic up on Main and 8th gives out free clean needles starting at 10 am. It’s first come first serve so the junkies hang out up there to make sure they get some.”

“Do you happen to know his address?” Emily asked, not even thinking about the fact that this man could be homeless.

The woman laughed, “Nah, I know he crashes in the alleyway by the central library when he can’t get a John to pay for a room for the night for him and after dark he is normally somewhere out here with the rest of us. There are barely any boy toys out here, so he sticks out.” The woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly starting to get annoyed. “Is that it? Cause I gotta head home.”

Morgan nodded, “Yes Ma’am. Thank you.”

The two agents watched the woman walk away for a moment before Emily turned to Morgan, “To the clinic?”

\--

When Morgan and Emily pulled up to the free clinic, it was clear that the woman wasn’t lying. There was a line of sad-looking individuals waiting on the side of the building next to a sign that said, “Free Needle Exchange.” The picture they had of the person that left the note was extremely fuzzy. Garcia tried to clear it up, but it was still hard to see any real details of the man.

All they knew was that he was at least six feet tall, quite thin, and had wavy shoulder-length hair. The two agents sat in the car and watched everyone in the line, no one looked anything like the man they were looking for.

“What are the chances that we are even going to find this guy?” Morgan asked with a huff.

Emily leaned back in her seat, “Transient people are hard enough to track down and DC has one of the largest homeless populations in the US so there is a chance that we won’t find him at all..”

“Way to be optimistic, Emily.” Morgan laughed out as he started to climb out of the car.

Emily followed, “Hey, you asked.”

\--

Emily and Morgan had no luck at the clinic. Everyone was too busy to talk and the receptionist said that they saw dozens of people matching Penny’s description every day, so they went ahead to the central library.

Before they went inside they went down the alleyways to see if they could spot the young man, and again, they had no luck.

They did, however, find a tarp behind the dumpster on the left side of the building.

“Penny?” Morgan asked from outside of the tarp. When no one answered back, Emily pulled back the tarp and Morgan stood to the side, hand on his gun holster.

But of course, it was empty.

Inside the tarp was a car air freshener tied to the side of the tarp, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, a few empty to-go coffee cups, and a sleeping bag with a rip down the side.

“At least we are getting closer.” Emily offered.

Morgan rolled his eyes, “We found what _might_ be his sleeping bag. That doesn’t feel closer.”

“Now look at who is the pessimistic one.” Emily laughed.

The two made their way inside the library to ask around some more and found an older, balding librarian behind the counter. “Sir? Hi, I am Agent Morgan, and this is Agent Prentiss.” Morgan said as they both showed the man their badges.

The man straightened up, “What can I do for you too?”

“We were wondering if you could tell us anything about a man who sleeps in the alleyway outside,” Emily asked, pointing in the direction of the alley.

“He is white, tall, thin, wavy long hair and might go by the name ‘Penny’,” Morgan added.

The man nodded, “Yeah, I see him all the time. We know he sleeps there sometimes but he never bothers anyone and keeps the alley clean, so we let him be.”

“We just checked, and we saw his stuff, but he wasn’t there. Do you know where he might be?” Emily asked.

“Did you check the stacks?”

Morgan furrowed his brow, “The what?”

A different librarian called the librarian they were speaking with, causing him to turn, “Hold on,” he said before turning back, “The nonfiction section. I see him all the time over there in the morning. You are welcome to have a look.” The man nudged his head towards the nonfiction section.

“Thanks,” Morgan said but the man was already hurrying off to the other librarian.

“A drug addict and male prostitute that is also an avid nonfiction reader?” Emily thought out loud.

Morgan was equally confused but also fascinated. He needed to know more about this ‘Penny’ person.

Emily led the way to the nonfiction section of the library, which was extensive. There were dozens of tall bookshelves, so Emily took one side and Morgan took the other. They walked the aisles but found that the stacks were completely empty.

Morgan was starting to feel like this was just another lost cause before he turned to the last row of shelves and saw a young man sitting on the floor in front of the bookshelf. There was a cheap-looking duffle bag on one side of him and a large stack of books on the other side, as well as an open book in his lap. His trembling finger trailed down each page before turning the page not even ten seconds later. It looked more as if he were looking for something than reading.

Morgan took a moment to look at the young man. He fit the description perfectly, white, tall, thin, wavy shoulder-length hair, but Morgan could see more details now. The man wasn’t just thin, he was painfully thin. The type of thin that only drug addiction and the food insecurity that comes with homelessness could cause.

His face was sharp and angler like his body. His eyes were set in deep dark circles and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in months. He was wearing a snug black short sleeve shirt that looked secondhand and skinny jeans that looked as if they were supposed to be tight but hung slightly on his small frame. The knees were dirty and starting to rip and the cuffs were rolled up to reveal pale ankles and one red sock and one purple sock peeking out of his extremely worn converse shoes.

Despite his dirty, worn clothing and his sickly pale complexion, Morgan found the man strangely beautiful.

Morgan walked into the row, “Excuse me? Are you Penny?”

The young man flinched slightly at the sound of Morgan’s voice but didn’t look up from his book, “No, sorry.” He answered and turned the page to his book.

Morgan almost wanted to laugh. He had spent most of his morning looking for this kid and now that he finally found him, he denies it. “Well can I get your name then?”

“No, sorry.” The man repeated, turning another page.

Morgan got a little closer, about 2 feet away from the man reading on the floor, and spotted the track marks that line the insides of both of his thin arms. _Ambidextrous drug addict._ He also could see a few faded bruises on his neck under his long hair. _Bruises or hickeys?_

There was no question in Morgan’s mind that this was who they were looking for.

Before Morgan continued, Emily spotted the two men and walked up to them. “Hello Penny—”

“Still not Penny.” The man cut Emily off.

Emily cracked a smile but pulled out her badge, “My name is Emily Prentiss, and this is Derek Morgan, we are with the FBI.” Morgan pulled out his badge as well and they both held their badges open for a moment, waiting for ‘Not Penny’ to look up.

The man closed his book and set it on the stack next to him before finally looking up for only a moment. Once he saw their badges he placed his hand on his duffle bag and pulled it closer to himself. Both agents assumed it was probably his way of trying to keep it from them, knowing he most likely had some form of drug paraphernalia in there.

“You aren’t in trouble or anything.” Morgan said for what felt like the hundredth time that day, “We are here investigating a string of murders and we have reason to believe that you might know something about them.”

The man got up slowly, looking as if he were about to pass out but he gripped the shelf for support and stood up straight. Somehow he looked even skinnier and frailer upright. “It’s odd that a group of profilers with the FBI would need the help from someone like _me_.” He said as he started to file the books back on the shelf.

Morgan was taken aback at the fact that the young man knew they were profilers, but he didn’t let it show, “You work the streets, right? You might have seen something that others didn’t.”

The man finished putting the books away and started scratching the side of his face, “Well I didn’t.” He said flatly. “I need to go.” He reached down and grabbed his bag and started to walk around Emily to leave.

Emily took a step-in front of him, “We know it was you that left the note that informed the police of the serial killer in the area.” Emily said bluntly.

The man wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding his bag around his waist to control his increasing shaking. “That would be quite embarrassing for the police.” He mumbled.

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked but the man didn’t answer, he just looked down and started scratching the inside of the arm that was holding his bag. “Listen, Penny. We—” Emily started but the man cut her off again.

“That is still not my name, just something the girls call me.” He said with a slight bite. It was becoming more and more obvious that the man was needing to use again.

“Well, what _is_ your name?” Morgan asked.

The man smirked, “You can call me whatever you want if you pay enough.”

Morgan smirked back; he could see straight through his false promiscuity. “How about we get you some lunch in exchange for your name and what you know?”

“No, I need to get going.” The man said again, taking a step back.

“Our treat. We can even order you extra to take h—” Morgan stopped himself before he said the homeless man could take the extra food home, “with you.”

The man bit his lip and made a hmm sound, seemingly thinking about what Morgan had suggested. Morgan couldn’t help but think the small action was adorable, but he ignored it. “Yeah.. Yeah, okay. I just need to use the restroom first.”

Morgan smiled, “Sure thing.”

The three headed up to the front of the library where the restrooms were, and the man went in alone. After a few minutes, Emily sighed, “You know he is probably getting high in there.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed Morgan’s mind and he cursed under his breath before heading into the male restroom, “Hey, kid? You okay?” He asked loudly but no one answered. He pushed on all of the stall doors, finding them all empty, before he got to the end of the row only to find that the last stall wasn’t a stall. It was an emergency exit. The door was cracked open and a paper clip was holding the lock from alarming.

“Damnit..” Morgan said, he pushed the door open but found no one.

The man was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo this was not the fic I said I would write next but here we are. I know it's a slow start but the next chapter will be out very soon. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and don't forget to kudos and sub! :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Stealth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual assault in the form of stealthing, which is defined in the end notes.

Emily and Morgan grabbed some lunch, without ‘Not Penny’, before heading back to the police station, feeling defeated. Neither agent was incredibly happy about being outsmarted by a homeless drug addict.

They could tell from the vocabulary in the note that the man they were looking for was probably educated to some degree, but they did not expect to find a young man who helped other prostitutes get their GEDs and held up in the nonfiction section of the library multiple times a week.

When the two entered the conference room, Rossi, Hotch, and JJ were already there looking at a string of letters and numbers posted on the whiteboard.

“What is that?” Emily asked as she walked in.

JJ turned from the board to look at Emily, “Some type of cipher or message.. We don’t really know.”

“It was found inside the last victim,” Rossi said before the other two could ask.

Morgan looked over to the board that had the crime scene photos. The women were stabbed multiple times but not cut open, “What do you mean ‘inside’ the victim?”

JJ cringed, “No like.. _inside_ her.”

Morgan furrowed his brow, “What doe—” he started to ask but Hotch cut him off.

“Inside her vaginal canal.” He said bluntly.

Emily shivered but asked, “The unsub left a message inside only this one victim, why?”

“We don’t know if it was just this one victim or not because the ME didn’t bother to do an internal exam on any of the other victims,” Rossi explained and both Emily and Morgan looked shocked.

“What?” Morgan said angrily. “They didn’t bother with a rape kit or anything?”

“No.” Rossi crossed his arms; he was angry as well. “He told me ‘They were whores, any evidence would be useless so why bother to check.’ I had to threaten to tell his boss just to get him to do an internal on victim number six.”

Emily huffed and plopped down in one of the conference room chairs, “What the hell is wrong with these people?”

“I would have told his boss anyway,” Morgan said, looking over at Rossi.

Rossi smirked, “Oh, I plan on it once he finishes the exams on the other five bodies.”

JJ, who was standing by the board started to look through some files, “At least they followed that protocol and didn’t get rid of the bodies yet.”

Hotch nodded, “But in the meantime, we have a message, and we need to figure out what it means.” Hotch said before turning to Emily and Morgan, “Any luck with the man that left the note.”

Morgan sighed, “We are pretty sure we found him. Some kid that the street girls have nicknamed Penny. He sleeps outside of the central library, likes to spend his mornings reading in the nonfiction section, and is normally walking the streets at night.”

“So.. What did he say?” JJ said, looking up from the files in her hand.

“He said his name isn’t Penny and that it would be embarrassing if the police needed help from someone like him, but he never denied leaving the note. We got him to agree to come to lunch with us for a free meal in exchange for him telling us what he knows but…” Morgan let his words die out, but Emily finished his sentence.

“Then he ditched us..”

Rossi chuckled, “He ditched you?

Morgan ran his hand over his shaved head, “He is a lot smarter than he looks apparently..”

Hotch glared at them for losing what could have been a key witness, “You two will go out after dark to look for him again.” He ordered.

“Yeah, okay.” “Yes, sir.” Morgan and Emily both said at the same time.

\--

The team worked on trying to crack the cipher and IDing the victims, as well as notifying next of kin and setting up family interviews. Within a few hours, there were five more ciphers that were found, all inside the victims.

They were each on their own boards, numbered and a blank space next to them for any ideas that the team might have. Morgan, Emily, Rossi, and Garcia, who came with her laptop from the BAU office, each had a cipher to crack while JJ and Hotch worked with the victims and their families.

While Hotch and JJ were able to ID two of the women, the rest of the team was not having any luck. Before they knew it, it was 7 pm and dark out.

“Alright everyone,” Hotch started, “We should call it quits for the night. Morgan and Prentiss, you two are to drive around looking for Penny for at least an hour before quitting for the night. You both—”

Hotch was cut off by screaming coming from the entrance of the police station. They assumed it was just another upset person that was arrested as they had already heard a few people screaming on their way to booking. “Get the fuck off me!” The male voice screamed, sounding like he was going to break down in tears any second, which gained the attention of the BAU members.

Morgan and Hotch got to the window looking out into the police station first, and then they saw him.

“That’s Penny!” Morgan said, clearly surprised. He was bucking away from a police officer who looked as if he was enjoying the fight Penny was giving.

“Please! I said I would go with you, stop being so rough!” Penny yelled as he broke, tears starting to run down his face. The police officer contorted Penny’s handcuffed arms upwards, causing the young man to scream and bend almost completely over. That was all it took for Hotch and Morgan to almost run out to the young man.

“Let him go!” Hotch yelled in his deep Unit Chief voice.

The police officer loosened his grip, letting Penny stand up straight, but still held on to his wrists.

“What’s going on here?” Morgan asked the police officer, but Penny yelled out instead.

“This idiot arrested me and let the asshole who assaulted me go!” He pulled hard against the police officer’s grip again. This time Morgan noticed a red mark on Penny’s eye that was starting to bruise, and his hair and side of his cheek was wet with… _Oh no.._

“What is that on your face?” Morgan asked even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Cum! That asshole s-stealthed me!” Penny yelled and Morgan could hear Garcia gasp from behind him.

“You brought him up here with _that_ on his face!” Morgan shouted at the police officer but Hotch put his hand on Morgan’s shoulder, signaling for him to calm down.

Hotch held a deep glare as he moved over towards Penny and pulled out a chair for him. “Let go,” Hotch said to the police officer just above a whisper, which somehow made him sound even more terrifying. The police officer obliged and Hotch pulled out his own handcuff keys and undid the handcuff on Penny’s right wrist before re-cuffing him in front of his body, so he was more comfortable. “Morgan, can you get an evidence kit?” Hotch asked but Penny shook his head.

“I d-don’t need that. I just need s-something to wash it off.” Penny said, having calmed down slightly now that he was sitting, and his wrists weren’t pinned behind his back.

“Penny, we need—” Hotch started but the young man cut him off.

“My n-name still isn’t Penny.” The young man said, shooting a look at Morgan.

Hotch almost cracked a smile, “Well since you refused to give your name earlier, you will be Penny for now.” Penny huffed but Hotch ignored it. “Now tell me what happened.”

The young man shifted awkwardly in his seat. “This g-guy bought a blowjob, but he t-took off the condom between t-thrusting in my mouth, but I noticed a-and turned my mouth away before he came. He got pissed that I didn’t let h-him cum in my mouth, so he punched me. I started s-screaming at the guy and this asshole sees us in the alley a-and arrests _me_. I didn’t e-even get my money!”

“You just admitted yourself that you were prostituting, besides the fact that you are high as a kite right now.” The police officer shot back.

Morgan took a closer look at the kid and it took him a moment to notice he had pinpoint pupils. His hands weren’t shaking as they were earlier and he looked less pale, instead, his skin was flush. It also occurred to him that his speech was slightly slurred.

There was no doubt about it, he was high.

Hotch paid no attention to the police officer, “I am sorry that happened. We need to collect a sample so you can press charges.”

Penny shook his head, “Don’t b-bother. Can I j-just get some antibacterial w-wipes?”

“Kid, that guy physically and sexually assaulted you. You need to press charges.” Morgan said, frustrated.

“Occupational hazard,” Penny said with a slightly dazed smile, looking up at Morgan. Cum on his face, looking high as hell. Morgan couldn’t help but wonder what happened in this man’s life that made this just another day at work.

Morgan sighed and grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes off the counter that JJ had put there a moment earlier. “Here,” Morgan said while handing Penny the wipes. He took a few out and roughly rubbed his face clean with his hands still handcuffed together, before he started to work on his hair.

Hotch turned to the police officer, “What is this man being charged with?”

“Resisting arrest, prostitution, and public intoxication.” The officer quickly supplied.

“I expect those charges to be dropped.” Hotch said flatly, the police officer tried to argue but Hotch kept going, “You arrested this man after he was assaulted simply because you look down on him. You couldn’t even give him the human decency to wipe his face but instead, you paraded him around, wrenching his handcuffs until he screamed while another man’s ejaculation dried on his face. You _are_ going to drop the charges.”

The room felt as if it was standing still as the police officer seemed to be weighing his options while trying not to look as scared as he felt. Finally, he spoke up, “Fine. I will drop the charges, but I am still holding him overnight to sober up.”

Hotch nodded his agreement and Morgan stood up, “I will walk him.” He said as he didn’t want the police officer to touch Penny again, suddenly feeling protective over him.

Penny stood up, stumbling a bit before getting his footing. He looked around the room at the BAU team that had gathered in front of the conference room, which was only a couple desks away. His eyes darted from person to person, stopping at Emily for a second longer as he remembered her. His eyes also paused on Rossi, going wide for a second as if he recognized him, before he kept going, finally stopping on the conference room windows. From where they were, the board with the first cipher was completely visible through the windows.

A smile crawled onto Penny’s face and he started to walk closer to the window. Morgan took a hold of his forearm, so he didn’t run away, as he was a clear flight risk at this point.

Once they were close enough to see the print of the notes clearly, Penny chuckled and said, “Polyalphabetic Cipher with Caesar Shift Cipher to the 4th shift,” while he was looking at the note labeled one.

Morgan furrowed his brow, “What?”

Penny just shook his head, “Nothing..”

Morgan chalked it up to him being high and let it go, taking him to the booking center and placing him in their custody instead of the arresting officer.

When he got back the whole team was in the conference room again and the arresting officer was huffing and storming away from Hotch, who looked painfully angry. “Let’s head home,” Hotch said once Morgan got in the room. “We will meet back here at 7 am.”

“Hold on, shouldn’t we interview that guy now that we found him,” JJ asked.

Garcia laughed, “More like he accidentally found us.”

“He will be in custody for at least twelve hours, we will have plenty of time to interview him in the morning,” Hotch said as he gathered up some of the files around the room.

Everyone started to straighten up some before they left but Emily stared at the first note for a few minutes before writing, ‘ _Polyalphabetic Cipher with Caesar Shift Cipher to the 4 th shift_’ next to it.

“What’s that?” Rossi asked.

“I heard that Penny guy say it before Morgan took him to booking.” She said, tapping the washboard marker against the conference room table as she leaned on it to look at the board.

Rossi chuckled, “That kid is just high. You saw his arms. I doubt there has been any time in the past year that he wasn’t high out of his mind. Just ignore him.”

Morgan, who was listening to the two, took a step forward, “We are on this case because of that kid. He is smarter than he looks.” He said with a bite. It wasn’t fair for Penny to be judged based on his addiction alone. Then again, part of him thought that the man was just full of it too.

Emily moved over to the first evidence board that had the note Penny left on it. Next to the note the name ‘ _Penny?’_ was written. “What is this guy’s real name anyway?”

All heads turned to Garcia, “You know lovelies, you could all just ask instead of assuming I already pulled up his name from booking.”

“Really, baby girl? Are you trying to tell us that you _didn’t_ already pull his name?” Morgan said with a smirk and Garcia couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah okay, I did.” She said as she got up and took a purple washboard marker off the table. She erased the name ‘ _Penny_ ’ and wrote a different name instead.

_‘Spencer Reid’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your love on my first chapter! I am so happy :D Let me know what you think!  
> The next update will probably be 2/11 or 2/12, depending on my Spanish exam XD 
> 
> Stealthing is non-consensual condom removal. In other words, the partner with a penis covertly removes or damages the condom during sexual intercourse, when the other sexual partner has only consented to condom-protected sex. This act is considered sexual assault or rape.


	3. Dr. Reid

Most of the BAU team arrived in the conference room right at 7 am, with Hotch having arrived at 6:30 am and Garcia walking in a few minutes late, coffee for everyone in hand.

“You are a Goddess, woman!” Morgan smiled wide when he was handed his own coffee.

“Oh, I know it, brown sugar!” Garcia said with a sassy look that made Emily laugh.

Hotch cleared his throat, “Spencer Reid will be released at 8 am and I have already talked to the officer in charge of holdings. He will be brought here for questioning immediately after release. Until then, Garcia?”

“Yes, sir?” Garcia’s head shot up from her laptop.

“I need you to find out everything you can about Spencer Reid.”

Morgan leaned forward to rest his elbows on the conference room table, “Do you think he might be the unsub?”

Hotch thought for a moment, “We can’t rule it out. He told us about the case and has avoided us since.. Either way, the first family interview isn’t until 9 am and until then, Morgan, I need you working on a geographical profile and the rest of you working on these ciphers.”

\--

Almost thirty minutes later Garcia finally looked up from her laptop, “Hotch? I think I have found everything I can about Spencer.”

Everyone looked over except for Emily, who seemed to be really into the cipher she was trying to crack.

Hotch set down the file he was holding, “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Okay.. Where to start… His name is Spencer Reid, date of birth is October 28, 1981, so he is only 24. He is from Las Vegas.” Garcia started but Morgan cut in.

“Las Vegas? What is he doing out here?”

Garcia gave a look that made it seem as if she didn’t know if what she was reading was even true or not. “Well, this part is weird.. Spencer graduated high school at 12--”

“12?” JJ interrupted but Garcia kept talking.

“He went to the University of Las Vegas until he was 16, earning several bachelor’s degrees. Then he went to CalTech, where he earned his _doctorates_ in Mathematics and Chemistry.”

Everyone seemed to be shocked into silence. They knew that Spencer was smart, but they would have never guessed that he was a doctor, let alone held multiple degrees.

Garcia continued, “He then went to Yale where he earned a third doctorate in Engineering by the time he was 22. I then have him moving to Washington D.C. with a plan to start at Georgetown University in their Psychology doctorate program. He was given another full-ride scholarship, but he ended up postponing his scholarship and acceptance offer before the semester started.”

“What? Why would he do that?” JJ asked.

Garcia moved her mouse around, making a few clicks before saying, “He got into a car accident a few days before the program was going to start. He completely shattered his right knee and that is pretty much where everything started to fall apart.” Garcia said, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“I have a death certificate for Diana Reid, his mom, a couple of months after his accident, a notice for eviction a few months after his mom passed, and then several arrest charges for disorderly conduct, public intoxication, and prostitution, spanning over the past year..”

Morgan was the first to speak up, “Woah.. how does that even happen?”

“I don’t understand either.” JJ said, “How did he go from about to start his fourth doctorate to an addict?”

Garcia looked up from her screen, “I don’t know.. He has been mostly off the grid once he was evicted. All I have are bad encounters with the police and a few ER visits. One is because of an overdose and two are due to assaults but he didn’t press charges, oh poor baby..”

“If I could guess,” Hotch started, “Spencer most likely got pain medication for his knee, a large amount of pain medicine can be highly addictive. That, combined with his mother passing away created the perfect breeding ground for a life-altering addiction to form.”

Emily, who was listening while still working on her cipher, chimed in, “But.. He seems like a genius or something. Like isn’t he too smart for drug addiction?”

“Addiction spares no one. It has nothing to do with how smart someone is.” Hotch said somberly.

“Speaking of smart,” Garcia looked back down at her laptop, “His school records have him down for having an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and that he can read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Wow..” someone mumbled but no one looked around to see who. The room grew quiet. Everyone was lost in the thought of this young man, who holds multiple doctorates and is a certified genius, having his whole life ruined by addiction.

Suddenly Emily yelled, “I got it!”

Several team members jumped from the abrupt noise, but JJ spoke up first, “What is it?”

“I did it, I cracked the first cipher!” Emily said loudly as she looked at her board. There was a large amount of writing, most of which didn’t make sense as it was just the note process of cracking the cipher. Emily wrote the translation at the bottom of the board.

_‘Were you but lying cold and dead,_

_You would come hither, and bend your head,_

_And I would lay my head on your breast;_

_And you would murmur tender words,_

_Forgiving me, because you were dead’_

“What does that even mean?” Rossi said after reading it.

Emily shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

“How did you even solve it?” Morgan asked, standing up and walking over to her board.

I just followed that.” Emily said as she pointed at the note she had placed at the top of the board the night before. ‘ _Polyalphabetic Cipher with Caesar Shift Cipher to the 4 th shift_.’ “

Rossi crossed his arms, “Isn’t that what that kid said last night?”

Morgan nodded, “Yeah. I asked him about it, but he said it was nothing.”

JJ’s jaw dropped, “You mean we have been working on these ciphers for hours and he saw it for barely a minute and knew the method to solve it?”

“Maybe because he was the one that wrote it,” Rossi said.

Morgan turned to face Rossi. “Why would he kill off the women he works alongside with just to tell the police that the murders are related and then tell us how to solve his cipher?”

“Morgan is right, this unsub doesn’t profile as one that would willingly give away information,” Hotch said.

Before anyone could argue, someone knocked on the conference room door before cracking it open. “Agent Hotchner?” A police officer said through a barely cracked door.

Hotch turned towards the door, “Yes?” he said with an ever so slight grin. Hotch noticed when he came in that morning that the police officers seemed cautious of Hotch, most likely due to hearing how he scolded the officer that brought Spencer in the night before. Hotch found it amusing.

“I have moved Spencer Reid to interrogation room three, sir. It has the largest viewing room in case your whole team wanted to watch.” The officer said.

Hotch nodded even though the officer could barely see him from around the cracked door, “Good. Thank you.” Hotch said and the police officer close the door again. “Morgan, Prentiss, you two will do the interview since you all have spoken before. While he is a suspect, try and build repour. He might be a witness and is worried about getting in trouble. We need to know what he knows, okay?”

Morgan nodded and Emily said, “Yes, sir.”

\--

The first thing Morgan noticed when he walked into the interrogation room was how horrible Spencer looked. His whole body was shaking, his forehead was damp with sweat even though it wasn’t hot, and he held himself around his waist as if he were about the throw-up.

When the door opened, his headshot over, looking terrified. Somehow he looked even more tired than he did the day before. The red mark on his eye had formed into a dark purple and blue bruise, which didn’t help how exhausted he looked.

It was clear that Spencer was going into withdrawal from whatever his drug of choice was, which was just going to make their interview harder.

“Good morning, Spencer,” Emily said as they entered the room, but Spencer didn’t say anything. “We have a few questions for you, is that alright?” Emily and Morgan both took a seat in front of Spencer on the other side of the table.

Spencer rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Don’t act as if I have a choice.”

_He has the agitation and moodiness that comes with withdrawal as well apparently._ Morgan thought before saying, “You are right, you don’t have a choice in this but the faster we get it over with, the faster you can leave.”

The thought of being able to leave soon seemed to make Spencer relax slightly. “Fine, what do you need to know?”

“Were you the one that left the note informing the police about the serial killer?” Emily started.

Spencer deadpanned, “Clearly.”

Emily nodded, “And how did you know there was a serial killer instead of just random killings.”

Spencer started to dig his nails into his track mark riddled arms, “All of the victims were white woman, prostitutes, between the ages of 20 to 30 and they were all mothers. It’s statistically unlikely for that many murders to occur with the same MO in the same area and them not be related.” He rattled out almost too fast for Morgan and Emily to understand him.

“Mothers?” Morgan thought out loud. The team had only managed to ID two of the victims so far and both of them were mothers, but they didn’t think that was a key factor. “Did you know these victims?”

Spencer shrugged, “Not really, as much as co-workers that don’t directly work with each other do.”

“If you knew your _co-workers_ were being murdered, why didn’t you go directly to the police instead of just leaving a note?” Emily asked.

“Are you serious?” Spencer asked with a bite. “This police department couldn’t even tell that six murders were related, and you expect them to not just arrest me based on the fact that I knew about them? You saw what happened last night. _I_ was assaulted,” Spencer almost yelled, gesturing to his bruised eye and a section of hair that looked as if it had gel in it from the man that ejaculated on him the night before without his consent. “And they arrested _me_. I am no one to them but someone they can arrest to fill a quota.”

Morgan wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed to be telling the truth. It didn’t make any sense for him to murder the people he worked beside and then help the police when he wasn’t even on their radar.

Emily went to ask another question but right as she opened her mouth, the door opened and Hotch slipped in.

“There has been another murder, happened last night when Dr. Reid was in custo—” Hotch started but to everyone’s surprise, Spencer cut him off.

“Don’t call me that!”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, “For someone who has not offered us your name, you sure are particular about what others call you.”

Spencer held an expression somewhere between wanting to punch Hotch in the face and wanting to cry, “Spencer. Just Spencer.”

“Alright Spencer, I am Agent Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the BAU. You can call me Aaron or Hotch.” Hotch said taking a step closer and extending his hand out but Spencer just gave a little wave instead of shaking his hand.

“I don’t shake hands.. sorry,” Spencer said quietly, avoiding eye contact. Spencer started to look even more uncomfortable than he already was. It was clear that Spencer was not used to being showed any level of respect from people, let alone a high-ranking member of law enforcement.

_A prostitute that doesn’t like handshakes.. This kid is something else._ Morgan thought to himself, fighting a grin.

Hotch lowered his hand but didn’t question it. “Tell me, Spencer. How did you know the method to solve the puzzle you saw yesterday?”

Spencer’s eyes shot up, “I was right?” Hotch nodded and Spencer smiled to himself, looking back at his lap before what looked like a wave of nausea hit him. He grabbed his stomach hard with one hand as the other came up to cover his mouth.

“You alright, kid?” Morgan asked while Emily quietly got up, grabbed the trash can by the door, and put it next to Spencer on the floor.

Spencer nodded his head and slowly lowered his trembling hand to join the other hand that was wrapped around his extremely thin waist.

Hotch ignored the withdrawal symptoms, knowing that the extra attention would most likely upset him further. “Yes. Agent Prentiss was able to use that method to crack it this morning.”

“What did it say?” Spencer asked.

Hotch looked over at Emily, giving her a look that told her she could tell him. Emily nodded back before repeating the cipher the best she could, “Were you but lying cold and dead, you would come hither, and bend your head, and I would lay my head—"

“That’s ‘He Wishes his Beloved were Dead’ by William Butler Yeats,” Spencer said, cutting Emily off. “But it’s missing at least one line.”

Morgan took out his phone and texted what Spencer said to Garcia. “How did you know that?”

“Because I wrote the cipher,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes, “What do you think? I read it.” Spencer bit back but it didn’t faze Morgan.

Hotch wasn’t fazed either, “Our technical analysis tried to enter the second puzzle into a program to solve it using that same method and it didn’t work.”

Spencer shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you.. Sometimes I can just look at things and know the answer.. The Caesar Shift Cipher is extremely basic and easy to crack while the Polyalphabetic Cipher can be recognized if you know it well. Your second cipher might fall under a different shift or a pairing of two different ciphers. There are dozens to pick from, but I didn’t read the second cipher, so I don’t know.”

“Would you like to come help?” Hotch said plainly.

Spencer’s eyes darted between the teammates before stopping on Hotch, “Wait.. What?”

Even Morgan and Emily were surprised at the offer as well. The team normally does not enlist the help of non-law enforcement and especially not the help of homeless, drug-addicted prostitutes, no matter their genius status and number of doctorates.

Hotch looked Spencer dead in the eyes, so he would understand that he was being serious, “Would you like to come to the conference room and help my team crack the ciphers?” Hotch asked again.

Spencer couldn’t keep the eye contact and looked at his hands that were now resting on the table in front of him, “I—I.. I really need to get going. I need to go find a shower and change of clothes” Spencer was clearly lying but Hotch went along with it.

“This police station has a locker room with showers, and I am sure we can find you a spare set of clothes. Most police stations carry some.” He offered.

Spencer shook his head, “That.. That’s nice but I need to get going. I can come back in an hour or two if you really need..”

Hotch’s face sharpened slightly, “No, Spencer. We cannot have you come back if you are going to go get high. You are the soberest right now and that is what we need.”

Spencer’s mood sharpened as well. “Then no.” Spencer shot up to a stand, grabbing the table hard for support, “What the fuck did you expect trying to get the help of someone like _me_?” Spencer gestured to himself, “I need to go shoot up and I need to do it _now_. If you don’t want my help later then fine, just stop this bastard and let me be.” Once the words left his mouth he gagged and dropped down to his knees, throwing up in the trashcan that was by his feet.

Hotch’s stern expression wavered slightly as it hurt to watch this young man struggle but he quickly gained his stoic disposition again. “Fine, you are free to leave. Be careful out there, Spencer.” Hotch said once Spencer stopped vomiting and took his head out of the trashcan.

Spencer tried to stand up, but he fell back to the ground. Morgan stood up to help him, but Spencer held his hand up, “No, I am fine..” He mumbled, standing up again and staying up this time. He walked towards the door on shaking legs, quietly said, “Thanks..” before leaving with the plan to never come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think! 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well, thank you for the support! :D


	4. Anyone Home?

The team got back to work, without Spencer.

They used the information Spencer gave them, about the victims all being mothers and the name of the poem from the first cipher, but no one mentioned him. They were sure that he wasn’t the unsub and that he didn’t have any other information about the case, so there was no need.

Morgan, however, had a hard time not thinking about the young man. He wished he could help him somehow. He had such a bright future until it was taken by drugs.

The team spent the rest of the day trying to ID the victims, going to the latest crime scene, and trying to solve the ciphers. They managed to ID two more victims and get one more cipher from the latest victim’s body, but that was the extent of their progress.

Morgan took a few extra minutes before he drove home that night to drive around the streets he heard Spencer liked to frequent. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if he saw him. Offer him a ride? A place to stay? Maybe just the $50 he had in his wallet, so Spencer didn’t have to bend over for as many men that night.

After a few more minutes than he had planned, and not seeing Spencer anywhere, Morgan headed home only to be awoken at 6 am from his phone ringing.

There was another body.

\--

“Two victims in two days?” Morgan said as he walked past the crime scene tape where Hotch and Emily already were. They had already spoken to a few people in the area and there were no witnesses. At least there were no witnesses that were willing to talk to them.

The crime scene was as gruesome as the others. A woman in a short black dress and knee-high purple boots laid face down in a dirty alley. Blood was pooled under her torso, as well as splattered around the ground and alley walls. The woman was believed to be a prostitute that worked in that area and she had been stabbed multiple times like the rest of the victims.

“The unsub could be devolving?” Emily offered but Hotch shook his head.

“The MO hasn’t changed. The unsub isn’t being sloppier or reckless, he is simply killing more.” Hotch said while crouched down next to the victim’s body.

“The unsub might just be showing off,” Morgan said as he joined Hotch to look over the body. “No one even knew about him before and now that we are here he is still getting away with it.”

Hotch and Emily stayed quiet. This would not be the first time that an unsub accelerated their murders because the FBI was in town investigating them. Sometimes it was a cry for help, while others were just taunting. Either way, that made eight victims in about a month.

“I thought the locals were going to increase patrols in the area?” Emily asked, looking over at Hotch, who was now going through the victim’s purse.

Hotch pulled out a wallet from the purse and then an ID, “At least we have an ID on this victim.” Hotch said, handing the ID to Morgan. “Send that name to Garcia.” He said before turning to Emily. “They doubled the patrols in the area, but the officers keep arresting the people working out here at night instead of looking for the unsub.”

Emily huffed, “We need to fix this issue with the local law enforcement..”

Hotch nodded, “I have already set up a meeting with the Chief of Police for Washington D.C., if they don’t get their act together then JJ will release their lack of cooperation and biases to the media.”

Emily smirked. They hated having to threaten the locals with going to the media, but women were dying, and the police department seemed to just be treating the murders as public service crimes. Then a thought hit her, “Could this be a member of the police?” Emily said quietly to Hotch.

A look of realization flashed onto Hotch’s face. He took his gloves off and crossed his arms, “We will look into that possibility back at the station.” Hotch said back, looking over at the police officers at the crime scene. He didn’t want anyone to hear that idea.

“Alright. See you in a little bit, baby girl.” Morgan said into his phone as he walked back up to Hotch and Emily. He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket, “This victim, Sarah Holding, was a mother as well. She had a two-year-old son that lives at his grandma’s house. Sarah had just gotten her GED and was working with a local nonprofit to get a job off the streets.” Morgan said sorrowfully.

“Damnit..” Emily mumbled but Hotch looked to be in thought.

“Prentiss, didn’t you say Spencer Reid helped some people get their GEDs?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded.

“Yeah, one woman told us that he had helped several women get their GEDs and get off the street.” She said before looking around at the street signs she could see from the alley, “Actually.. Isn’t the central library just a few buildings over?”

Morgan nodded slightly. He knew what she was getting at. Spencer might have known Sarah or witnessed something.

“I will finish up here,” Hotch started. “You two go down and see if you can find Spencer in or around the library and ask him if he knew Sarah.”

“Is he a suspect again?” Emily asked as she took off her own gloves.

Hotch turned and told the crime scene crew they could go ahead and take the body to the ME before turning back to Emily, “No. He was in custody when the last murder was committed and nothing about the profile suggests a partner.” Hotch said and the two agents nodded and started to leave but Hotch started again.

“One more thing. Garcia is going to be reaching out to Dr. Alex Blake, a linguist, and professor at George Town but there is a chance that she won’t be able to crack the ciphers as well. Despite his addiction, Spencer is extremely bright. Keep him on our good side if you can.”

“Didn’t Spencer curse at you the last time you saw him?” Emily said with a smirk but Hotch just shot her a glare.

\--

Emily and Morgan walked the few alleys down to the central library, with Morgan walking a little slower than normal. He couldn’t quite figure out why he was feeling nervous to see Spencer again when he was out looking for him just a few hours prior. Every part of him wanted to help the young man, to get to know him better and protect him, but he had no idea why.

Spencer was not his first run-in with someone who lost their life to addiction. He had dealt with dozens of prostitutes and homeless people, why was Spencer any different?

“Let’s check his.. set up before going inside,” Emily said, turning towards the left alleyway.

Morgan went up to the closed tarp behind the dumpster first, “Spencer? Spencer Reid? Are you in here?” No one answered.

It was still early, just a little past 7 am. Morgan wasn’t even too sure if the library was open yet. Unless Spencer had gotten a motel for the night, he was most likely in his tarp.

Morgan looked over at Emily for a moment before saying, “Spencer I am opening this tarp now.” Morgan gave it a few seconds before lifting the tarp to the side and immediately seeing Spencer laying in the small space, on top of his sleeping bag. “Spencer, wake up kid.”

“Uhh.. Morgan..” Emily said and Morgan turned to look at her. Her eyes were fixed on a spot in Spencer’s makeshift tent.

“What is it?” Morgan said as he turned his head to look at the spot Emily was looking at. Next to Spencer was a used needle, a spoon, a lighter, and a small empty Ziplock bag. “Shit! Spencer! Spencer, wake up!” Morgan yelled, starting to shake Spencer’s unconscious body roughly as he feared he might have overdosed.

Panic built in Morgan’s chest as Spencer didn’t respond. Morgan yelled and shook Spencer a few more times, “Fuck, Spencer! Come on!” Emily pulled out her cell phone to call 911 but once her fingers hit the button they heard a groan come from the young man. “Spencer? Hey, you up?” Morgan said, doing a poor job at hiding his panic.

Spencer sat up slowly, blinking several times before looking up at Morgan and Emily, “What the hell are you doing..” He groaned out, not fully understanding what was going on.

Morgan, who was kneeling under the tarp next to Spencer, stood up. “What do you mean, ‘what the hell are you doing’? I thought you were dead!” Morgan yelled. His panic turning to anger which then turned into sadness when he got a good look at Spencer trying to peel himself from his drug-induced slumber.

Spencer didn’t look worse than he did in the police station, just a different type of bad. In the police station, Spencer was going through withdrawal. He was sweating, vomiting, and in a horrible mood.

Now, Spencer looked dead inside. His eyes were glazed over, there was an angry red needle mark on his arm, and it was clear that Spencer never got a chance at a shower. Part of his hair was still hard and crunchy looking and the knees of his jeans, the same jeans he was wearing the first time they met him, were covered in what looked like mud.

The yelling didn’t affect Spencer, who was squinting at the two agents trying to get his eyes to unblur. After a moment he seemed to be coming around, “What are you two doing here?” He mumbled as he reached over, patting the ground for something before his hand hit his used needle. Spencer’s eyes went wide, looking at his drug paraphernalia and then over at the two FBI agents that just showed up at his jury-rigged door.

“Don’t worry.” Emily said once she noticed what Spencer was starting to panic over, “We aren’t here to arrest you for that.” Morgan nodded and Spencer let go of a breath he was holding.

He moved his duffle bag over top of his rig anyway. Spencer then grabbed a hairband that was beside his sleeping bag before climbing out of his tarp, letting the door part fall closed. “Thanks..” He said quietly to the two agents as he pulled his hair into a little bun on the top of his head as if he were trying to hide how dirty it was.

While Spencer looked cleaner with his hair up, it did not help his overall look. His razor-sharp cheekbones and jawline were on full display, as well as his prominent collar bones, both showing just how thin he was. The bruised skin around his eye was now a bluish-yellow and it stood out on his overly pale skin now that his hair was pulled up as well.

“What time is it?” Spencer asked once he was done.

Morgan looked at his watch, “7:21 am.. But.. are you okay?” He asked, giving the young man a once over. Spencer was just completely nonresponsive and now he is standing before him like nothing happened.

Spencer nodded, wrapping his arms around his waist. Morgan couldn’t tell if he was holding himself out of comfort or because he was cold in the crisp Spring morning air. “Oh, yeah. Sorry… I am hard to wake sometimes.”

“You mean you are hard to wake after you shoot up. What was that? Heroin?” Emily’s tone was low and cold. She would never admit it, but she was scared seeing Spencer not waking up and was taking it out on him.

Spencer flinched slightly at the bold comment but ignored it, choosing to look at Morgan instead. “What do you need?”

“A woman, Sarah Holding, was murdered a few alleys down. Did you happen to see anything or know her?” Morgan asked.

A flash of sadness showed on Spencer’s face before he swallowed it back down. “Uhh, yeah. I just talked to her last night on 9th street.. We only talked for a few minutes before I was picked up by a John. I took him into the alley, and she was gone when I got back.. She told me she had a job interview with the diner down the road..” Spencer said. He might have been able to hide his sorrowful expression but not his voice.

“Do you know who she might have been going with that night or who she hangs out with?” Emily asked next.

Spencer shrugged, holding himself even tighter. “I don’t know.. I know her pimp is CJ, but he is supposedly one of the nicest pimps in the area. From what she said, he didn’t care that she was trying to leave either. She might have met with him after she was done working, a lot of girls do that.”

Emily gave Spencer a small smile, “Thanks, that is helpful. Do you happen to know what CJ looks like?”

Spencer shook his head, “No, never met him. The pimps don’t like to be around the male prostitutes.” Spencer said before mumbling, “homophobic” under his breath.

Morgan caught on to what Spencer didn’t say though. _No pimp means no protections against bad customers.. No one has his back out here, but he has been going around trying to help other prostitutes get off the street._

Emily pulled Morgan out of his thoughts, “Thanks again, Spencer, and sorry for your loss.”

Spencer just shrugged again, taking a step back towards his tarp.

Emily started to turn around and walk away but Morgan didn’t want to leave Spencer just yet, “The offer to take you to eat is still good you know. You could tell us more about what you know about the people working out here so we wouldn’t have to keep bugging you.”

Spencer grinned, “Are you trying to proposition me, Agent Morgan? Normally members of law enforcement wait until they are off the clock to ask for some alone time.”

The thought of a police officer from the local police station trying to proposition Spencer made Morgan sick, but he ignored it, choosing to laugh at the bold accusation instead. “No, kid. I just mean a meal. Agent Prentiss would come too.” Morgan said, gesturing over to Emily, who had stopped walking away when she heard Morgan talking again.

Spencer looked over at Emily and then back to Morgan, “No thanks. I don’t need your charity. If you need anything else, you know where I live.” Spencer said with a laugh, moving his tarp door up so he could get back in his ‘home’.

 _Was that a homeless joke?_ Morgan thought before saying, “Okay then, Spencer. Be safe.”

“You too,” Spencer said, slipping under the tarp.

As Morgan turned back to Emily to leave, he couldn’t help but be a little glad that Spencer wasn’t the unsub’s type. He knew he shouldn’t get invested in the safety of one homeless man that he barely knew, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something about Spencer Reid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think! Thank you!
> 
> I will be replying to comments after the sun comes out, I am too tired rn :D


	5. Vicious Cycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Transphobia, detailed description of drug use, attempted rape.

“You too,” Spencer said as he turned away from Agent Morgan and went back into his tarp, plopping himself down on his sleeping bag. He wanted to take Morgan up on his offer for some reason. There was something he really liked about the man, but he knew it was probably a trick. Law enforcement was always trying to trick people like Spencer.

Spencer pushed Morgan out of his mind by thinking about what he had to do that day. 

_It’s about 7:30 am now.. still early. The library doesn’t open until 8 am and I need to go by the clinic for more needles today, so I need to be in line by 9:45 am._ Spencer thought to himself. He was always careful about his needles. He never used a used needle. He wouldn’t even buy them from a dealer if he could avoid it and he made sure to dispose of them properly.

Luckily, because of the cities large drug problem there were often needle trash bins in public restrooms, so he didn’t have to carry his drug paraphernalia around for long. If he couldn’t get any free needles from the clinic then he would just snort his drug. Spencer just hated doing that. It burned and the high took longer to start.

Spencer moved his duffle bag to the side, revealing his rig again. He knew he was lucky that he didn’t get arrested for having it. He knew better, but sometimes after he shot up, he just couldn’t stay conscious long enough to clean up.

He started cleaning up now, putting the cap on the needle and putting it and the empty baggie in a small, more secretive pocket in his duffle bag. He then cleaned off his spoon with his shirt and threw it and the lighter in the bag.

 _I need to get another candle.. This lighter is starting to burn my fingers._ Spencer thought to himself as he looked in his bag. He opened up a different pocket that was deep on the inside of the bag and pulled out a baggie of heroin and a few dollars.

 _I have $8 left.. I can get some food, but I need 12 more dollars to get another baggie…_ With the increased police presence, Spencer didn’t make much money the night before. He was going to need to make up what he lost, or he was not going to have enough to supply his addiction unless he wanted to buy the cheap stuff.

Spencer might be an addict, but he wasn’t stupid. He still held his doctorate in Chemistry and knew more than enough about drug composition to be a safe addict.

He also knew where to get the ‘good’ drugs. The ones that weren’t laced with anything else. Unfortunately, the purer drugs came with a higher price.

A baggie of white powder heroin cost $20 from his dealer. He could get black tar heroin for as cheap as $5 a baggie if he were desperate but there was a high chance it was going to be laced with fentanyl or methamphetamine and some type of filler. It was also crude, more dangerous, and didn’t give him the same level of high.

Withdrawal normally started around six hours after his last fix, meaning he needed at least four baggies a day to keep his withdrawal at bay as one baggie was normally a full hit for him. He preferred more, so much more, but being an addict is expensive. Four baggies a day meant at least $80 a day.

It didn’t seem like a lot but when you were selling your body for the money, every dollar counts.

He put everything back in his bag, zipping it up. He knew he was going to have to wait to use again until after he got more needles and then he was going to have to get more by 4 pm. No one wanted to pick up a daytime prostitute, so he probably wasn’t going to be able to make more money until after dark, meaning after 6 pm.

Spencer sighed and leaned back on his sleeping bag. _I will have to take half a dose this morning and half a dose in the afternoon to make it last long enough to make more money.._

He felt tears burn at his eyes. He hated the life he was leading. He hated being an addict, being a prostitute, being homeless. He had three doctorates but was sleeping behind a dumpster and hadn’t showered in days. He felt pathetic.

He sat back up and looked down at himself. His clothes were filthy, he was filthy. He had a few outfits in his duffle bag but the idea of changing into one of them before he had a chance to shower seemed silly.

Spencer grabbed his bottle of hand sanitizer and put some on, taking a little extra and rubbing it under his arms in hopes that it would get rid of any odor he had. He needed someone to buy him a motel room for the night.

It was a trick he had to get to shower, often wash his clothes, and sleep in a real bed. He would offer full service all night as long as the client paid for the motel room for the whole night. Most of the time the man would agree and end up falling asleep after one round or just leave him with the room.

Some men went for a second round or would wake up hours later to go again but that was fine. Sleeping with one man a few times in a night in the comfort of a motel room was much better than giving many men blowjobs in dark alley ways.

The thought had Spencer dusting off the knees of his pants. He accidentally kneeled down in some mud the night before while giving oral behind a building.

_I need to clean this off, I look disgusting…_

With that thought, Spencer was up on his feet and climbing out of the narrow space behind the dumpster. He needed a shower, but homeless people didn’t have many options. There were shelters but those were mostly just for women and children. The few that were open to everyone only offered a place to sleep and sometimes a meal.

This meant that he had to find the next best thing, a public restroom with soap and running water.

Spencer walked four blocks to a 24/7 diner, the same one that Sarah Holding had a job interview at. Most businesses knew better then to keep their restrooms open to the public. They were only open to paying customers and were closely monitored. To many people would try and do drugs or have sex in them otherwise. Spencer knew a few of the witnesses that worked at this diner though.

Over his time on the street, he had met a wide range of people. He would talk to the other working girls while waiting for a john. They nicknamed him Penny, even though he hated the nickname. It reminded him of the term ‘lucky penny’ and there was nothing lucky about his life.

Spencer helped a few out when he could. The girls that were on the streets because life gave them a bad hand, not because they lost it to addiction. He would give them advice, explain how they could get their GEDs, and even help them study when he wasn’t chasing another high.

The good thing about being friends with people that also work on the street, they are more understanding of the struggles of addiction than others.

Spencer slowly opened up the diner door and walked inside. An older woman with poorly dyed blonde hair and tired eyes spoke without looking up from the cash register, “Welcome to Patty’s diner, how many in your party?”

Spencer didn’t plan on eating, he didn’t have enough money for a meal, but the words still slipped from his mouth, “Just one.”

The woman looked up and huffed, taking into account Spencer’s dirty clothes, track marks and duffle bag. He looked homeless, which meant he was most likely going to be treated worse than others. “We are full up right now.” She said, even though Spencer could see into the diner and there were at least a dozen empty tables.

Spencer ignored it, “Is Sam here?”

The woman looked back at her register, locking it. “You can order to-go but you gotta pay for your meal up front.”

“Is Sam here? Or Katie?” Spencer asked again.

“No, so get going.” The woman waved her hand at him, shoeing him towards the door.

Spencer sighed and started to back up towards the door when a voice spoke up, “Spencer?” He turned around to see Sam walking out of the kitchen.

Sam was one of the first working girls that he tried to help. Sam was thrown out of her house by her parents when she came out as transgender. While it’s difficult for anyone that has to prostitute themselves to make ends meet, it is extremely difficult for the LGBTQ+ community, especially transgendered individuals.

Sam was normally sought after as a type of fetish and was often attacked when a transphobic man realized that she didn’t have a vagina. Spencer, after finding Sam beaten and left for dead in an alley way, tried his hardest to get Sam off the streets. He got Sam in with a homeless LGBTQ+ youth shelter and got her an interview with the diner, completely turning her life back around.

Sam believed that Spencer saved her life by getting her medical attention after she was beaten and helping her find shelter and a job. After the last year or so, she had tried to get Spencer help several times. Finding him free rehab programs or offering to let him sleep on her sofa but Spencer refused. He didn’t want to be a bother.

Spencer did, however, take her help when it came to the diner. She would allow him to wash up in the family restroom as long as he didn’t get high in there.

Sam walked up and looked at the older woman, “Go take your break, Cheryl. I got this.”

The woman huffed again but didn’t argue. She just took her jacket and a pack of cigarettes that were under the counter and headed outside.

“Giving orders now?” Spencer asked with a little smirk.

Sam smiled and looked Spencer up and down, “It’s good to see you, Pen. I was promoted to shift lead a couple of weeks ago, you woulda known if you came around in the past month.”

Spencer's eyes grew wide, “Really? That is great, Samantha! I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, where have you been though? You look rough.” Sam asked, going behind the counter and pulling out a set of keys.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “So nice of you to say.” He said sarcastically.

“I tell it as I see it.” Sam shot back.

Spencer sighed; he knew she wasn’t lying. He looked and felt like shit and he was starting to regret not shooting up before he came. “I have been around, don’t worry.”

Sam handed Spencer the key to the family restroom, “I will always worry..” Sam said but Spencer just looked away, scratching at the side of his face, so Sam let it go. “Do you have time to sit and talk for a bit today?”

Spencer shook his head, “No, I have to be down at the clinic by 9:45.”

Sam nodded, understanding the implication of what he was saying even though it saddened her. “You know you could always apply here.” She said, jumping into what she was going to talk about later if he was able to stay.

“No, Sam. We talked about this..”

“But you know the owner, right? You have been able to get several ladies jobs here, why can’t you—” Sam started but stopped when Spencer started shaking his head.

“It’s not the same. None of you ladies have been addicts.” Spencer said, ignoring the part about Spencer knowing the owner. Sam didn’t know that he did know the owner, but only as a client.

The owner of Patty’s was an extremely conservative and religious man, who spoke out against the ‘horrors’ of sex work, the gay community, and the liberal agenda.

He was also secretly gay.

Spencer blackmailed the owner to get the ladies a foot in the door while the owner got to tell his church that he was ‘saving whores from damnation’. While Spencer might be able to blackmail the owner into getting a job for himself, he knew it would most likely come with late hours spent alone with the owner. He would also most likely be fired right away from being high on the job.

Sam just shook her head, “Fine..” She said, clearly upset and walking back to the dining room section of the diner.

Spencer internally cursed himself. _Think I would be used to disappointing people by now.._ Spencer thought as he walked to the bathroom, unlocking the door, and relocking it once he was inside.

The bathroom was small, but he didn’t need much space. He got to work stripping off his clothes and setting them to the side. He didn’t like to take much time using the diner’s restroom as he didn’t want anyone to get in trouble for letting him in.

He used the restroom before he grabbed several paper towels and soaped them up with the hand soap before running some hot water on them and starting to wash himself.

He ran the soap all over himself. He hated the smell of the cheap antibacterial soap, but it was much better than the smell of his unwashed body. As he soaped up his hips, he ran his hand over fingertip bruises that came from a john holding him too hard as he fucked into him a few nights before.

 _I guess that is why they call this a ‘whore’s bath’.._ Spencer thought to himself.

He continued washing himself in the small restroom sink until his body was as clean as he could get it. He then used a ball of paper towels to plug the sink drain, filling it up with hot water and some soap. Spencer then took his hair out of the bun, flipped his head upside down, and dunked it in the sink, scrubbing it as much as he could before draining the sink and running water over his head.

There wasn’t much he could do about his wet hair or body, so he tried to brush his hair out with his fingers and put it back in a messy, now wet, bun. He let his body air dry as he worked on washing the knees of his jeans.

He scrubbed at the muddy jeans the best he could but there wasn’t much he could do for them. _Great.. They already had rips in the knees.. now stains.._ Spencer huffed and went through his bag for a different outfit. He didn’t have much, but he pulled out an outfit he washed the last time he was at a motel.

A pair of black, slim-fit jeans and a white and black striped shirt. It had a few holes in it but they were small, almost as if it was the design of the shirt. He slipped them on his still damp body and put on his belt, fastening it.

 _I am going to have to put a new hole in this belt soon.._ Spencer thought before looking in the mirror.

Spencer didn’t know the man that was staring back at him. He looked half-dead, wasting away. He knew he had never been so thin before, not even after his dad left when he was 10 and he had no money for food for himself and his mom.

Spencer reached up and ran his fingers over his sharp cheekbones, down to his prominent collar bones and sternum, down to his ribs and hip bones. His shirt was thin, leaving no illusion to his weight. He tugged on his short sleeves in some effort to cover his scarred, overly thin arms but it was no use.

 _I need to find a jacket._ Spencer thought while cleaning up his mess. He had a hoodie he could hide his arms and dangerously thin body with, but he lost it a week or so before. An eidetic memory doesn’t do much while high out of your mind.

He slipped socks on, one black and one white, and put his shoes back on. Spencer’s hands were already starting to shake.

 _Fuck.. I need to use.. I need to get more needles first…_ Spencer pulled the baggie of heroin he had out of his bag and looked at it. _I could just use here. Use one of my old needles.. I mean I was the only one that used that… Right?_

Spencer shook his head roughly, _No.. stop. You can’t use here. Sam could get fired, you could get sick from the used needle and the last thing you need is another infected injection sight. Or.. maybe it would be fine—_

A knock on the restroom door pulled Spencer from his thoughts and he shoved the baggie back in the inside pocket of his duffle bag. “Penny? Spencer? You okay?” Sam yelled from the other side of the door.

 _Shit.. How long have I been in here?_ Spencer looked at his wrist, forgetting that he had pawned his watch almost two months ago. _Damnit.. Skin o’clock.._ Spencer gathered his bag, double-checked the restroom for anything he might have forgotten, and opened the door, “Sorry, Sam.” He said when he ran into Sam standing outside of the restroom door.

“Oh, no worries. Just checking on you. You look good, all done?” Sam said, looking Spencer up and down and forcing a smile.

“Uhh, yeah. Thank you again, Sam. I feel a lot better having washed up some…” Spencer crossed his arm over his torso, holding himself to try and stop his shaking. “I hate to ask.. But do you have a lost and found?”

Sam looked confused for a moment before realizing he was trying to get someone else’s lost clothes. “Sure, follow me,” Sam said, walking back into the kitchen to an office in the back and pulling out a box.

Spencer dug through it, there were several items. A pair of children’s shoes, a toy, a broken cell phone, an empty wallet, the normal lost and found items. At the bottom were two D.C. Capitol gift shop shirts and a thin woman’s jacket in all black. He pulled the jacket out and looked it over. It was a woman’s fit but was a size medium, big enough for his small frame.

“You lose that?” Sam said with a smirk and Spencer smiled back, putting the jacket on. It smelled heavily of vanilla body spray, but it could always be worse. As Spencer was putting on the jacket, Sam had stepped into the kitchen and came back with three food items wrapped in aluminum foil. “Take these. They are breakfast burritos.”

Spencer shook his head, “No.. I don’t have money for those.”

“No worries, someone ordered them but never picked up. Just take them, please,” Sam said, looking Spencer up and down again. He had lost even more weight in the month since she saw him last.

“Yeah, okay.. As long as you won’t get in trouble.” Spencer said quietly, clearly embarrassed.

Sam smiled, “No problem, Penny. I am always here for help. You know that, right?”

Spencer nodded and gave Sam a hug, thanking her again before making his way to the clinic. He had to hurry up, but it was as if he felt his withdrawal getting stronger with every step. By the time he made it in the line, he was sure he was about to vomit even though he still hadn’t eaten as he put the burritos in his bag for later.

Waiting in line with the other intravenous drug users always made him feel worthless. This was the last thing he thought he would be doing at 24, not that anyone planned a life of addiction, but it was definitely not what he thought his future would hold.

He silently went through the line, changing out the few dirty needles he had for about a week’s worth of clean needles. He then looked at some of the other free supplies they had that were sitting out on a table. _Condoms, cotton balls, alcohol prep pads, bandages, bars of soap, small bottles of water.. Yeah, I guess I will take some of these too.._

Spencer started to put some of everything in his bag when a wave of nausea hit him, and he threw his hand over his mouth.

“You alright, son?” An older man behind the table of supplies asked.

“Uhh, yeah. Sorry..” Spencer said just above a whisper, not looking at the man.

The man nodded, “I have something that might help.” Spencer looked up in interest but then the man pulled out a bible and started reading a passage, “And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. Therefore—”

Spencer rolled his eyes and cut the man off, “confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. James 5:15-16, I know.”

The man looked surprised but didn’t stop his sermon, “All you must do is pray for forgiveness, son, and you will be healed!”

Spencer finished gathering his supplies and threw his bag back over his shoulder, “I will remember that when I am on my knees tonight.” Spencer shot back, leaving the man looking disgusted. He was agitated due to withdrawal and was sick of people telling him he could pray his addiction away. If it were that easy, he would have done it a year ago.

\--

Spencer made his way back to the library to his tent set up but didn’t even make it halfway there before he threw up straight bile onto the sidewalk. He was shaking violently and sweating even though it was cool outside.

He couldn’t wait until he made it back to his tent, he needed to use now.

Spencer went back into an alleyway, sitting next to a dumpster so he would be out of view from the street, and got his stuff out. A clean needle, a cotton ball, an alcohol prep pad, a Band-Aid, a small bottle of water, his cook spoon, lighter, and his baggie of heroin. He could only use half, but it would take the edge off.

He took of his jacket and belt, readying the belt at the top of his arm but not pulling it tight yet. He then cleaned his skin with his alcohol prep pad, and put the cotton ball at the top of his thumb and wrapped a Band-Aid around it. Most people used the cotton ball as a filter and the Band-Aid for any bleeding after injection, but he preferred to use them to protect his thumb from lighter burns when he had them as he didn’t have a candle to cook with.

He readied his needle, put some heroin on his spoon with his pinky fingernail, added some water from his water bottle, and got to heating it up. Spencer tried to keep his shaking hands as still as possible, so he didn’t spill any while it cooked.

He took the needle and mixed the liquid, heating it up again, mixing it again, until he was satisfied. This was a step he couldn’t rush, or the mixture would just get caught in the needle and be ruined.

Spencer held his spoon with one hand and took the needle in the other, putting it in the mix and drawing it up into the syringe by pulling the plunger back with his teeth. He found this to be the best way to insure he didn’t spill a single drop.

Being a genius and a drug addict meant he could be a genius at being a drug addict.

He cleared the air from his needle, pulled the belt on his arm tight with his teeth, and sunk the needle into his skin once he found a good vein.

Spencer closed his eyes and focused on the feeling. The prick of his skin, the rush of warmth through his body, a tingling sensation spreading into his toes and fingers. He felt lighter, calmer. Once the needle was empty, he tossed it down and loosened the belt, letting it slip off his arm, leaning his head back on the brick wall behind him.

The high felt nice, better, but not nearly enough. It was like drinking water when you are hungry. It takes the edge off, there is a false sense of full, but you are still hungry.

He was still craving, and it took everything he had not to use the rest of his heroin right then. Instead, he gathered his stuff back into his bag and made his way back ‘home’.

\--

It was barely two hours later until Spencer started getting dope sick again. His body hurt, his skin itched and he felt like he was going to throw up the breakfast burritos that he forced himself to eat. By three hours he was using the last of his heroin. By 5 pm he was feeling desperate again.

He needed money, he needed drugs.

So, Spencer went to the streets to sell the only thing he had left, himself.

He put several condoms in his pocket, hid his duffle bag in the dumpster his makeshift tent was behind, and got to walking. It was still light out and he could already see there were more police cars out, but it didn’t matter. He needed to find someone he could sell himself to.

By dusk, he had found one man he gave a blowjob to for $50. It wasn’t much but it was enough for two baggies, so he made his way to the corner his dealer liked to hang out on.

It was a vicious cycle. Need money, fuck a stranger for money, buy drugs, get high, start to crave and go through withdrawal, need money for more drugs.

It was a cycle that he had been stuck in for far too long.

\--

By the time it was fully dark out, Spencer had already bought two more baggies and used one of them. His world was foggy, euphoric, pleasurable.

He was swimming high above the clouds in a sky of heroin.

With a drug-induced smile, he made his way back to the streets with the plan on giving a few more blowjobs and anal to a man who paid for a motel room. He might be cleaner than he was before his sink bath, but he still felt gross.

The night was slow, and he made small talk with some of the working girls. He told them about the serial killer and told them to be careful. Spencer was still talking to a woman named Candy when he spotted an attractive older man walking slowly through the small crowd. He was looking the female sex workers up and down before moving on, as if he were looking for something different.

Spencer had seen that look enough times to know what he was looking for, _a man._

Spencer looked up at him shyly as he approached, “Can I help you with anything, _sir_?” he asked the man. It was a safe guess that this man wanted a submissive man, most of the men that bought him did. It made them feel better about looking for comfort in another man as most of his clients were still in the closet.

The man smirked and looked Spencer up and down. “You’ll do just fine. How much?”

Spencer leaned a little closer, “$50 for oral.”

“And how much to fuck you?” The man said bluntly, reaching around Spencer and grabbing his ass.

Spencer leaned into the touch even though he felt sick to his stomach because of it. “$200 for all night play but I need a motel room for the night.”

The man made a huff, as if he were thinking before he started to smirk again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a $50 bill, handing it to Spencer. “Where at?”

Spencer took his hand and led the stranger around the corner to an empty alleyway. Once Spencer stopped the man pushed Spencer up against the brick wall, kissing him roughly. Not many men wanted to kiss but Spencer allowed it as long as it was only a few minutes. He wasn’t getting paid for a make-out session, he was getting paid to suck dick.

Spencer tried to pull away from the kiss, but the man only kissed stronger, grabbing his hips so hard he thought they would bruise. He tried to break from him again, “Sir, I—” He was cut off by the stranger biting his bottom lip “Ow! Stop that!” He yelled but the stranger didn’t let up. Spencer tried to fight him, but before he knew it the man was working on Spencer’s belt. “Please, stop!”

“Shut it, whore. You know you like this.” He spat back, flipping Spencer to face the wall after getting his belt and pants button undone.

Spencer tried to kick against the man as he grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. “I don’t! Stop! I will give you your money back, just stop!”

It didn’t matter what he said, the stranger continued with his assault, working on pulling Spencer’s pants down before moving to undo his own.

Spencer tried his hardest to get the man off but between his clouded mind, slowed body, and dangerously slim frame, it was useless. “I have condoms, at least wear a condom!” He begged. If he was going to be raped, the man could at least use protection.

“No way, bitch boy. You are going to feel everything.” The man hissed. Pulling himself out and lining himself up with Spencer. Spencer closed his eyes, preparing himself for a brutal penetration but then he heard a voice yell out.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will check grammar and reply to comments in the morning, I am half asleep right now XD
> 
> Thank you all! Let me know what you think! :D 
> 
> Also, you should totally check this fic out! [Strawberries in Winter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816922) by [MakaylaJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaylaJade/pseuds/MakaylaJade) \- It's a oneshot with drug addict Spencer and Morgan/Reid. It's really great.


	6. Smell of Hand Soap, Latex, and Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Attempted rape and mention of sexual assault. 
> 
> For clarity, this chapter starts in Morgan's POV after chapter four. Chapter five was in Spencer's POV starting from that same scene.

“Okay then, Spencer. Be safe.” Morgan said as he turned back to Emily to leave.

Morgan heard Spencer say, “You too,” as he slipped back under the tarp.

“Well, what now?” Emily asked as the two started walking back towards the crime scene.

Morgan shrugged, “Hell if I know.” He mumbled. His mind was still caught on Spencer and how he thought he just found his dead body. _How long does Spencer have before he accidentally overdoses and dies? Or worse.. He is living on the streets and selling himself. He was assaulted by a guy and didn’t even care enough to press charges. What—_ Morgan was pulled out of his thoughts when he noticed Emily talking.

“—try and find this CJ guy but we have no idea what he looks like. We should probably canvas anyway.” Emily said as they approached the crime scene and saw Hotch had already left.

“Yeah, okay. I will give Hotch a call and let him know.” Morgan said, trying to compose himself. _Spencer is just a possible witness, nothing more, and I still have a job to do._

\--

After relaying what Spencer said to Hotch, Hotch agreed that the two agents should ask around again and see if they come up with anything before heading to the diner that Sarah Holding was supposed to interview at.

But of course, the search didn’t turn up anything. The few people that stopped for Emily and Morgan either didn’t want to talk to the feds or claimed they didn’t know anything. Morgan and Emily were sure that the police in the area had scared most of the people on the street into not trusting anyone that worked for law enforcement.

Then the two went to the diner. Morgan had sworn he saw Spencer for a moment when they pulled up, but he couldn’t see whoever he saw again so he let it go.

“Do you have a manager we could speak with?” Emily asked the woman behind the counter, pulling her badge out and showing her it.

The woman looked at the badge and then looked Emily and Morgan up and down and huffed, “No.”

“No? You don’t have anyone who could speak with us?” Morgan asked.

The woman shook her head, “I said no.”

Once the words left her mouth a taller woman holding a clipboard walked up, “Cheryl, stop that. What is up with you today?” She asked, shooting the woman a look before turning to Emily and Morgan. “Hi, my name is Samantha, and I am the manager on duty, what can I help you two with?”

Emily pulled out her badge again, “I am Agent Prentiss, and this is Agent Morgan. We just needed to ask a few questions if that is alright.”

Sam nodded, “Uhh, yeah. I guess.. Am I in trouble?”

“No, don’t worry,” Emily said, calming Sam down a little. “Do you know a woman named Sarah Holding?”

“I don’t know.. I think?” Sam said, before looking down at her clipboard, “Oh! She is supposed to interview here for a wait staff position later today. Why? Did something happen?”

This time Morgan spoke up, “She was found murdered this morning.”

Sam sucked in a breath of air and covered her mouth, “Shit.. I saw something on the news yesterday about someone killed around here the other day, is it the same guy?”

Emily and Morgan shared a look, as if they were trying to figure out if they could share that it was. Emily nodded at Morgan and he turned back to Sam, “At this time we believe it is a serial killer that is killing the sex workers in the area. Did you know anything about Sarah?”

Sam tried to keep a calm expression but hearing that someone was going around killing people that she might know from her street days was unsettling, besides the fact that she knew Spencer worked those same streets where people are being killed. “Uhh.. No, never met her. I just know the owner set up the interview… Is it just women that guy is killing?”

Morgan narrowed his eyes, “For now, yes. Why?”

Sam shook her head, “No reason. Just wondering.” Morgan thought the question was odd, but he let it go.

Emily got the number of the owner to ask him if he knew anything about Sarah before they said their goodbyes and left. The two continued to ask around on the streets for another hour before grabbing some lunch and heading back to the station, having found nothing.

\--

When Emily and Morgan got back to the police station, they walked into the conference room to see only Hotch, Garcia, and a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a professional-looking pants suit.

“Oh, you guys are back!” Garcia said as they walked into the room, causing Hotch and the woman to turn.

The woman took a step forward and reached out to shake the two agent’s hands. “You must be Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Alex Blake.”

“ _Doctor_ Alex Blake,” Garcia added on with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Blake,” Morgan said as he shook Blake’s hand back.

“Oh please, just Alex or Blake.” Blake said before turning to Emily, “You figured out this first cipher, right?”

Emily looked over at the board where the first cipher was written, “Yeah but only because I was told the key.”

“Told the key?” Blake asked.

“Yeah. Spencer Reid, he saw the—” Morgan started but Blake cut him off.

“Dr. Spencer Reid? From Las Vegas?”

All heads turned to look at Blake, “What? You know him?” Morgan asked first.

“I have read all of his papers. I have never seen a mind as bright as his. He was supposed to start at Georgetown almost two years ago, I was part of the team that accepted him into the university, but he declined the offer, and no one from the university has heard from him since.” Blake said but she was met with silence, so she continued, “If you all had him working the case, why did you call me in?”

Emily, Morgan, and Garcia all turned to look at Hotch, hoping he knew how to answer Blake. Hotch crossed his arms over his chest, “Spencer was the one that alerted us to the serial killer in D.C., but he is not.. in the condition to help at this time.”

Blake did not accept this ambiguous answer, “What does that mean?”

“Spencer seems to have fallen into a drug addiction,” Hotch said plainly.

Blake looked confused, “I don’t understand. I have known several students that have gotten addicted to Adderall or Ritalin. The campus has several programs that—“

“It’s not that type of addiction,” Hotch said, cutting Blake off before she could recommend a college sobriety program for students that sometimes abused ADHD medication or marijuana.

Before Blake could ask, Morgan filled her in. “Spencer is addicted to heroin, is homeless, and prostitutes himself to get the money for his drug habit.” He said bluntly.

Blake’s mouth fell open and she took a minute to collect her thoughts, “Wow… That’s such a shame..” She said and the room grew quiet again before she spoke back up. “I have to wonder how he was able to solve this first cipher though.”

Hotch took a moment to fill Blake in about Spencer. How he left the note about the serial killer, how he was arrested, how he looked at the cipher for all of 30 seconds before figuring out the key, and how he couldn’t stay and help solve the ciphers due to his addiction.

Blake was shocked. The addict Spencer Hotch was describing was nothing like the academic Spencer that she had heard so much about. It hurt her heart to know that Spencer had fallen so low, but she pushed past it and changed the mood back to focusing on the ciphers.

\--

Blake looked over them all with the help of Emily and Garcia while Morgan and Hotch went to help JJ and Rossi with the witness and family interviews and build a profile.

It wasn’t until hours later, around 6 pm, that the interviews were over, some leads were checked up on and the profile they had was delivered.

Hotch gathered everyone to meet back in the conference room. Once everyone was situated Hotch started. “The interviews were largely unsuccessful, but we were able to deliver a profile, which is a start.” Hotch looked up towards the whiteboards, “Were you all able to get anything?”

Blake sighed and stood up, looking at the boards as well. “None of the ciphers we tried came up with anything.”

“I have been working on a code to run the messages through but there are too many variables. It’s going to take time and even then it might not work..” Garcia added sorrowfully.

“What if the ciphers are just a trick to take up our time?” JJ asked from her seat, “The first message was just parts of a poem. It wasn’t even helpful.”

Rossi shook his head, “We still have to solve them, we have no other leads.”

The team all looked at the boards for a moment before Morgan spoke up, “If the ciphers are that difficult to solve, does that mean we are looking for a genius or something?”

“Not necessarily..” Blake said as she grabbed a marker and moved to a clean board, “Give me a word.”

“Unsub,” Hotch said first.

Blake wrote the word ‘unsub’ on the board. “Okay, good. If we put this through the Caesar Shift Cipher to the key of four, like what was used on the first cipher,” Blake stopped and wrote ‘YRWYF’ on the board. “That is what we get. We just move the letters over four to get the new code. Pretty straightforward forward but then the unsub ran that code through a polyalphabetic cipher so if we ran the code through just one cipher it wouldn’t work. We needed both ciphers, the key, and to know that they were using a 26-letter alphabet.”

Blake then wrote ‘-Y’ on the board before writing ‘ZRWZF’ on the board. “If the unsub made the key without one or more letters in the shift, it would change the whole cipher. If we try and decode this code using the 4th shift still we get,” Blake wrote ‘VNSVB’ on the board, “that, instead of the word ‘unsub’.”

Morgan studied the board and was honestly pretty lost. He didn’t know anything about ciphers, not many people did. “Okay, so how does this show that we aren’t looking for a genius?”

“Because they have free online programs for these ciphers,” Garcia explained. “You can take your message and put it into a program, and then another, and then another, and get a completely different message by the end without even knowing what you did.”

“Great.. So this could be anyone with an internet connection?” Morgan asked and Garcia nodded.

“Unfortunately, sugar.”

“Hold on, how was Spencer able to crack that first code so easily then?” JJ, who was now standing closer to the boards, asked.

Blake smiled lightly, “From what I have read about Dr. Reid from his paperwork at Georgetown, his mind is incredible. There was a note in his paperwork from one of his professors saying that Spencer solved a challenge equation that took him four months to solve in under two hours. He gives it to all of his students knowing they would never be able to solve it, but he did during class and still paid attention to his lecture. He was also only 15.”

“Wow, baby genius for sure,” Garcia said and Emily nodded her head in agreement.

“I know Dr. Reid is.. struggling at the moment but getting him to help would most likely be your best bet,” Blake added, looking back over at Hotch.

Hotch seemed to be thinking the idea over but Rossi stood up, “You can’t actually be thinking about asking Spencer to help again, Aaron. He is an addict and would undoubtedly show up high.”

Hotch studied Rossi’s upset expression before speaking, “Seven women have been murdered, Dave. Dealing with a high genius is worth saving a life.” Rossi shook his head, clearly not agreeing but he didn’t push the issue. He knew Hotch had a point.

Hotch looked at his watch, “I know we are all tired, but we need to go join the locals in trying to find this unsub. I want everyone to keep an eye out for Spencer as well. If you see him, try and talk him into helping. Make sure he knows he doesn’t have to be sober to help, but he does need to be coherent.”

Hotch then looked over at Blake, “Blake, are you able to come in tomorrow as well?”

“I will do my best to clear my schedule.” She said and Hotch nodded before looking over at Morgan.

“Morgan, I need you to focus on finding Spencer,” Hotch said, offering no explanation.

Morgan wanted to argue. Emily had met with Spencer just as many times as he had, she could look for him as well, but he didn’t bother. Part of him wanted to check up on the young man as it was becoming clear that he was going to be a key part of the case. Morgan nodded his head in agreement, and they all headed out.

\--

The team split up with Rossi and Emily taking several blocks in the hunting zone and Hotch and JJ taking several different blocks. Morgan was on his own.

He walked up and down alleys, checking his tarp outside of the library, and asking different people on the street for over an hour. He had gotten a few texts from the team, but no one had seen anything.

Morgan was starting to lose hope that he would find Spencer. It was dark out and there was a high chance he had gotten a motel room with a client.

He turned the corner and found a new group of people, spotting a woman with bright red lipstick and going up to her first.

“Ma’am, have you seen a man that goes by the name ‘Penny’?” Morgan asked once he walked up to the woman.

The woman looked him up and down and sighed, “Why do all the hot ones gotta be gay?” She said, assuming Morgan was looking for Spencer for a hook-up. “You know,” the woman got closer to Morgan, “Men call me Candy because I taste _so sweet_. Only $100 and I’ll give you a taste.”

Morgan ignored Candy’s proposition and gay comment, “Do you know where Penny is?” he asked again.

Candy huffed, “Fine, fine. He just went down that alley,” she pointed between two buildings, “with a john. He’ll probably be out in like five minutes. He always gets his men off fast.” Candy said with a laugh.

Morgan didn’t want to wait though. He thanked Candy and headed down the alley.

He barely got into the alley before he heard two people. _“Shut it, whore. You know you like this.”_ The first voice said followed by a second, _“I don’t! Stop! I will give you your money back, just stop..”_ Morgan started to walk faster with his hand on his gun, _“I have condoms, at least wear a condom!”_ Then it hit Morgan that that second, scared voice was Spencer.

He ran down the rest of the alley and turned the corner in the direction of the first man’s voice, who was now saying, _“No way, bitch boy. You are going to feel everything.”_

Then Morgan saw them. Spencer had his face against the wall, pants around his knees and there was a large man pushed up against him.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!” Morgan yelled and the man turned around. He didn’t even put his dick away before he started running. Morgan started to chase after him but Spencer falling to the ground made him stop, “fuck..” he mumbled. He looked in the direction of the man but let him go.

Spencer was more important.

“Spencer? Hey, kid. You okay?” Morgan said as he kneeled down next to Spencer, who was now laying on the ground. His eyes scanned his body, looking for any sign of injury. Morgan relaxed slightly when he didn’t see any blood, only red marks around his wrists and some dirt on his face from being pushed against the wall.

Spencer was breathing in and out quickly, struggling to calm down, “Yeah, yeah.. I am fine.” He said before reaching down and pulling his pants back up.

Morgan silently helped Spencer up to a stand and gave the young man a moment before talking, “We need to get you to a hospital.” Morgan pulled out his cell phone, “I will just call my team—”

“No, stop,” Spencer said, cutting Morgan off.

“No? We need to catch that guy. He—”

Spencer interrupted Morgan again, “I said no. There is no point, he didn’t even stick it in.” Spencer said, slightly dazed and far too high to understand the gravity of the situation.

Morgan cringed at Spencer’s choice of words, “That is still attempted rape. Did you even agree to sex?”

Spencer just shrugged and fixed his belt. “What are you even doing here? Are you spying on me or something?”

“What?” Morgan was dumbfounded and angry. Spencer didn’t even seem to care that he was sexually assaulted, _again,_ and instead of being grateful for Morgan stopping that man from raping him, he instead accused Morgan of stalking him. “I’m not spying on you.”

“Then why are you here?” Spencer shot back, clearly taking his fear and frustration out on Morgan.

“You gonna be kidding me. What would you have done if I didn’t find you? That fucker was about to _rape_ you!” Morgan yelled.

Spencer shrugged again, “Occupational hazard.” He said nonchalantly.

Morgan was taken aback by his cavalier attitude before a horrible thought crossed his mind. “Spencer.. Has this happened before?”

At that question, Spencer turned to face Morgan directly.

Spencer looked broken.

His eyes shined with unshed tears. He had dirt on one side of his face and a bruise on the other side from the man that stealthed him a few days before. Even in the dim street lights, Morgan could see that Spencer’s pupils were the size of pinpoints and his skin was flush from his high.

Spencer sighed, “Why are you actually here, Agent Morgan?” He said quietly, ignoring Morgan’s question but the look he gave Morgan was more telling than words.

“I was looking for you,” Morgan started, and Spencer raised an eyebrow, “We need your help with this case.”

Spencer chuckled and shook his head, “The FBI is so desperate they need the help of a homeless prostitute?” He said as if it was a self-deprecating joke.

Morgan knew Spencer’s potential though. “No, kid. We need the help of Dr. Spencer Reid—"

“Stop..” Spencer mumbled but Morgan kept going.

“—with the eidetic memory, an IQ of 187 and—"

“Shut up!” Spencer yelled, catching Morgan by surprise.

“Spencer..” Morgan said cautiously.

Spencer angrily shook his head, “No! I am not that person anymore!”

“You are still the same person. You are still Dr. Spen—" Morgan started but Spencer cut him off again.

“No, I’m not! I am Penny, the junkie that fucks strangers for money! I’m the homeless man that lives behind a goddamn dumpster!” A sob escaped from Spencer’s lips as a few tears ran down his face. “I’m the prostitute who gets raped in alleyways and motel rooms because I was fucking asking for it.” At that Spencer’s façade fell and he covered his face with his hands as he sobbed roughly into them.

“Oh, Spencer… You weren’t asking for it. You are selling services, that doesn’t give someone the right to do what they want with you.” Morgan said but Spencer just continued to cry into his hands. Morgan held his arms open, “Can I hug you?”

Spencer nodded his head while still covering his face and Morgan didn’t wait a second to wrap his arms around the smaller man. Morgan held Spencer tightly as he cried. Spencer buried his face against the crook of his neck, causing Morgan to take in the smell of hand soap, latex, and sex but Morgan didn’t mind.

However, he did mind how small Spencer felt in his arms. He could feel Spencer’s ribs and vertebrae. He knew that at Spencer’s size, he didn’t stand a chance against anyone that tried to overpower him like the man that just had tried.

Once Spencer calmed down some, Morgan let go of him and looked him in the eye, “You need help Spencer, I can help you.” He said but he wasn’t even too sure why. He only knew the basics about addiction, nothing about getting someone clean who has been using drugs for almost two years, let alone the fact that he barely even knew Spencer.

“Like I haven’t heard that before..” Spencer said bitterly.

“There are treatment programs, free ones. I could set it up for you.” Morgan tried.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Oh, like the shitty ones they throw you in when you get arrested with a drug addiction? They just pump you full of methadone for fourteen days and then cut you loose. You’re lucky if the staff doesn’t abuse you in one way or another as well.”

“Then I can get you into a real one. I want to help you, Spencer.” The words came out of Morgan’s mouth before he even had a chance to stop them. _What am I doing?_ He thought to himself.

Surprise flashed on Spencer’s face for a split second, but he didn’t linger in the hope of recovery. Instead, he ran his hands over his face, drying his left-over tears, and took a moment to collect himself. “Thanks for helping me, Agent Morgan but I need to get back to work. So, if that is all..” Spencer started to walk away but Morgan grabbed on to his shoulder.

“Hold on, kid!” Morgan said and Spencer flinched, pulling himself out of Morgan’s touch. “Shit, sorry..” Spencer just wrapped his arms around his waist and waited for Morgan to say what he wanted. “Are you gonna come help with the case tomorrow or not?”

Spencer huffed, “I… I can’t get sober to work.” He said, looking away.

“That’s fine. The leader of our team, Hotch, said you just need to be coherent. He will overlook anything else if it means helping stop this guy.”

Spencer smiled slightly at that but still didn’t look Morgan in the eye. “I will think about it..”

“Come on,” Morgan pushed, “I can even come pick you up. We can get some breakfast, on me.”

Spencer laughed, “That is the third time you have offered me a meal.”

 _Well, you are skin and bones.._ Morgan thought to himself.

Spencer started again before Morgan could talk. “But no.. I am not even sure if I am going to help, and I don’t know where I will be in the morning. Now if that’s all, I need to get going.”

Morgan wanted to reach out again, stop Spencer from leaving. To bring him home with him and take care of him. Give him shelter and stop him from having to sell himself to men that didn’t see his worth and could easily harm him. Rape him, kill him.. He wasn’t sure why he felt such a strong need to protect Spencer, but it didn’t matter.

Instead, he just mumbled a goodbye, told him to be safe, and watched as he walked out of the alley. He could only hope that he would see Spencer again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think! My fics are later this time around as I got caught up with midterms and my 700 follower celebration on Tumblr... which I still haven't finished XD Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: <https://tobias-hankel.tumblr.com/>
> 
> Email: damn.tobias.hankel@gmail.com


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